Road Trip
by Crazy Victoria
Summary: [GC] It's off to the Big Apple for our favorite CSIs as a series of conferences plagues the adventurous group. Trouble ensues in the forms of lost luggage, mixed up reservations, getting lost, and a Broadway show or two...New York will never be the same!
1. Travelling With the Kids

Chapter One: Travelling With the Kids

It really hadn't been their idea to take the trip. Brass had mentioned to Cavallo that a series of CSI conferences were being held the third week of July in New York, and wouldn't it be nice to give the Graveyard Shift a break? Cavallo had immediately sent for the Grave shift supervisor, and told him to inform his team to pack their bags.

So that was how Gil Grissom found himself standing in the middle of his living room, staring around with one had clutching a rather heavy duffel bag and the other running frustratingly through his short and slightly curly salt-and-pepper hair. He'd spent the last twenty minutes searching all over his Las Vegas townhouse for the troublesome pair of glasses he'd taken off the night before.

Grissom jumped. His cell phone was ringing shrilly from within the pocket of his jacket.

"Grissom."

"I'm outside—what's the hold up?"

"I seem to have lost my glasses."

He heard a laugh from the other end.

"They're in the bathroom."

"Catherine, how on earth would you know that?"

"On the sink, next to the toothpaste. I'll be down here."

Gil stared at the phone for a moment, then toward the bathroom. He'd checked there, hadn't he? Right after he'd checked the linen closet—

"Damn woman," he chuckled, reaching for the glasses in the exact place she had said. He shook his head as he slipped the offending articles on and made his way to the front door. In all his years, Gil had never been able to understand how Catherine Willows knew _everything._

He locked the door to the townhouse and picked up his duffel, swinging his carry-on bag over his shoulder and turning to find the source of his amazement waiting with crossed arms against the SUV parked in front.

"Found them, I see." She smiled from behind her dark sunglasses that hid a pair of brilliantly blue eyes that rivalled Grissom's own.

"Yes, actually. This slightly strange red-headed woman helped me."

" 'Slightly' strange? Isn't that just codeword for 'weird'?"

Grissom smirked as he reached the car, stopping to greet her with a swift kiss on the cheek that she returned. They'd fallen into the habit of the greeting long ago.

"You, my dear, are anything but weird."

A loud honk startled them from their banter. Both leaned to glance inside the front of the SUV to find Greg Sanders stretched across two rows of seats and grinning. The back door opened and Nick Stokes' Texan lilt could be heard from the far back.

"Yo, Grissom, let's get a move on here!" He shouted.

"Hello, Nick," Gil said pleasantly, "do me a favour and throw this in the back, will you?" He tossed the duffel into the back. An 'Oof!' could be heard from behind the hellos from Warrick Brown, Sara Sidle, and the spiky-haired lab technician still stretched into the front seat.

Grissom slid into the passenger seat while Catherine climbed behind the wheel and roared the engine to life.

"Let's get this show on the road!"

The Las Vegas airport was buzzing with activity as the six CSIs checked in at the front desk and made their way to the gate. Men, women, and children alike were rushing around past security, shouting to one another and waving passports in each other's faces.

"Boy do I love tourist season," Catherine commented dryly.

"C'mon, Cath, it's not so bad." Warrick said from behind.

"It is when they start killing each other over a bunch of poker chips." She reached into her bag for her boarding pass.

"Now, aren't you glad you're getting a break from all the psychos?"

Catherine shot Greg a look from under her lashes, her strawberry blonde hair falling to frame her face. She handed her pass to the gate attendant.

"I can think of at least _one _that I can't get rid of."

Greg grinned as Nick and Sara laughed. All together, they boarded the plane.

"What time is it?"

"Stop asking me that."

"I will if you tell me."

"Five minutes since you last asked, Greg."

"Yeah, but what time is that?"

"Don't you have a watch?"

"Packed it by mistake. Seriously, Sara, what time is it?"

"_Greg—_"

"Come on, Sara, just tell him already!"

"Yeah! Listen to Nicky, Sidle."

"It's eleven o'clock. Happy now?"

"Vegas or New York time?"

Sara growled and reached to hit the younger CSI with her rolled up magazine.

"Whoa! Nicky, a little help!"

Grissom sat back in his seat and smiled.

"Aren't you glad we put him on the end?" He asked the woman beside him.

"A stroke of genius, Gil. Though, I don't think Sara's too happy with the arrangement."

"Ah, but _there's _the privilege of being the boss," he said wisely, tapping his nose, "certain tasks can be conveniently delegated to another party."

Catherine smirked as she read her magazine.

"Babysitting Greg isn't a task, Gil. It's a foreign legion."

Gil chuckled and sat back to watch Sara attempt to reach across the aisle to throttle the bubbly lab rat. Nick attempted to restrain her, while Warrick sat safely in the window seat next to Nick, laughing as Sara managed to whack Greg with the magazine.

"Ow!"

"This is going to be one of those trips," Warrick muttered, turning to flip through the On-Board directory.

A few seats over, Greg gave a howl.

"Sara! That's sensitive, that is!"

A blast of cold air greeted the group the moment they set foot in LaGuardia airport. In the cool breezeway of the small airport, Gil led the way down to the escalators and the main arrivals area.

He stopped. Behind him, the rest of the team halted into one another and shot him nasty glances from behind their sunglasses.

"Problem, boss?" Nick remarked. Ignoring him, Grissom turned to Catherine.

"Cath?"

"Don't worry, I've got the transportation covered. You guys grab the luggage, I'll grab the car."

Greg, Warrick, Nick, and Sara turned and made their way to the carousel to collect their bags. Catherine pushed her sunglasses up onto her head.

"Could you get my stuff for me?" She asked, searching for the car reservation slip she'd put in there earlier.

"Sure. You'll be outside?"

She grinned.

"As always."

Inside the rented SUV now parked in front of the terminal, Catherine irritably drummed her fingers on the hot steering wheel. What on earth was taking them so long? She'd left Gil and the others over half an hour ago to retrieve the rental car from the lot, with the promise that they would be along soon.

"Damn man," she muttered. Deciding to mull over her best friend for a while, Catherine did not hear the tapping on her window.

"Cath!"

Gil raised an eyebrow as his friend snapped out of her reverie and unrolled the window.

"What's going on? Where is everyone?"

Gil sighed.

"It seems we've run into a few roadblocks," he said, leaning his elbow on the window frame and resting his cheek in his hand.

"What 'roadblocks'?"

"Luggage roadblocks." Grissom removed his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose.

"Luggage—"

Catherine's sentence was cut short as the back door of the SUV opened and Greg climbed inside, followed by Warrick, Nick, and Sara. Warrick and Greg situated themselves in the far back as Sara fumed.

"I can't believe they lost our luggage!"

Catherine's jaw dropped, and she turned to look at Gil, hoping that Sara was telling a rather bad joke.

"Lost?" she said.

"Lost. Still in Vegas, actually—or so they say. I believe our luggage may have caught the nine-fifteen to Alabama, however."

Grissom moved away from the window and slid into the passenger seat.

"_Alabama!_"

"Yes, _Alabama. _And by the time they can get the luggage back to us, we'll have flown home. So I had them send our stuff back to Las Vegas."

Catherine stared incredulously at the man sitting across from her, then to the backseat where Sara sat drumming her fingers on the window panel, and Greg, Nick, and Warrick sat rather dejectedly.

"So…let me get this straight—we're in New York, with nothing but our passports and the clothing on our backs, and we're supposed to do—what?"

"I called Brass and told him the situation," Warrick said, running a hand through his hair, "he's having the DA wire us over some money so we can replace what we lost."

"Perfect," Catherine sighed. Why did stuff like that _always _happen to her? She had the worst luck in the world.

"Uh, since we really can't do anything just sitting here, who says we try to find our hotel?"

And, at the present moment, Catherine had to whole-heartedly agree it was the best idea she'd heard all day.

_A/N: So…is this worth pursuing? There's loads of the story written (I went a little stir-crazy in New York with only Spike reruns to keep me company), so I have the content, just not the feedback I love more than chocolate!_

_Okay, not seriously, because, of course, chocolate is just amazing, but that's beside the point. The _real _point to this is for me to ask shamelessly for reviews!_

_Click the purple button!_


	2. Shopping Fun

Chapter Two: Shopping Fun

Traffic was chaotic. Car horns, screaming passengers, broken mufflers and angry cab drivers form a cacophony of noise that settled around the car and threatened to blow Grissom's recently repaired eardrums out. He rubbed his temples. If he ever found out whose idea this trip was…Brass? Or was it Ecklie? Come to think if it, didn't Cavallo send him off to inform the team? He wasn't sure; he couldn't remember. It was far too hot; the air in the car had become stale and wet, and blanketed the occupants in a think, suffocating heat. Where the hell was Catherine? She'd gone to check them in quite a while ago. The Sheraton, he recalled. Just round the corner from Times Square—in Vegas the location had sounded ideal, but sitting in the humid interior of a SUV in one hundred and ten degree weather, smack in the middle of New York City, the idea sounded…loud, actually…he shook his head.

"Okay," Catherine opened the driver's side of the SUV and rummaged around for her purse and carry-on, "so, here's the deal: there are three rooms, all across from one another. I know we booked six, but apparently the hotel got mixed up. So, we're drawing straws to see who rooms with whom—I've marked them with three different markers. That's about as helpful as the front desk got."

Silence. The four in the back glanced, exasperated, at one another before Nick spoke.

"Gimme one of those straws, then."

One by one, each CSI drew his or her straw from Catherine's hand until all but one of the straws had been drawn.

"Blue and blue—looks like I'm stuck with you, Nicky-boy." Warrick clapped his hand on Nick's shoulder.

"Red and red—I'm with _Greg?_" Sara asked, shocked.

"Looks like it." Catherine replied.

"Aw, cheer up, Sara. I promise I don't bite." Greg grinned.

Sara half-grimaced, half-smirked.

"It's not the biting I'm worried about." She said. She glanced in between Grissom and Catherine. "You two get to stay together? How totally unfair is that?"

The three other CSIs in the back feigned deafness as they grabbed their bags and climbed out of the SUV. Sara followed a moment later, frowning.

"She seems happy." Catherine slammed the door closed and joined Gil on the other side. His blue eyes were twinkling slightly and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"You rigged the straws."

Catherine handed the keys to the awaiting valet, then fell into stride with Grissom as they reached the revolving doors. She smirked.

"Oh, most definitely."

&----

"Okay, care to explain _this _one?"

Grissom was at a loss for words. The three rooms had somehow become two adjoining suites with two floors.

"I _know _we didn't pay for this," Greg said, sticking his head through the doorway.

"Hey, guys, I just talked to the woman at the front desk," Sara entered the room. "And she said that the manager upgraded our reservations in repayment for the mix up."

"So, let me get this straight—we go from six rooms to two and _that's _an upgrade?" Catherine asked, exasperated.

Warrick had climbed the small staircase to the second floor and was now leaning over the small balcony that overlooked the room.

"There's a king-sized bed up here, guys. Two of us could crash up here, two down there, and two in the adjoining."

"Yeah, Warrick, only problem is the bed in the next room is a Queen, same as the one down here." Nick glanced up at the man leaning over the balcony. "So, who wants what?"

Gil and Catherine glanced at each other. If they took the adjoining, they wouldn't have to put up with whatever antics Greg got up to, not to mention they would have some peace and quiet. But, if they took the King-sized bed, they would have a more comfortable, and they could watch over the 'kids'.

Comfort won.

"We'll take the upstairs," Catherine said, in a tone that left no room for argument, "CSI seniority."

"Always playin' that card, huh Cath?" Warrick made his way down the stairs and picked up his travel bag. "Nick and I will take down here."

Sara huffed slightly, swinging her backpack on and marching into the other room.

"Aw, don't worry guys. I'll loosen her up by the end of this trip, I guarantee it."

Gil watched as Greg skipped happily after Sara with a look of apprehension on his face. Seeing this, Nick quickly decided to change the subject.

"So, what do we do now?"

A slow, Cheshire grin crept across Catherine's face.

"We go shopping."

&----

The thing about New York City in the summer is that, despite the sweltering heat and oppressing humidity, thousands of people still came out of droves to take in the sights. Native New Yorkers and tourists alike swarmed the streets outside the hotel, causing Gil to stop and stare at the blurs of colour as people rushed past. It was unbelievable. He'd seen huge crowds in Las Vegas, but they were _nothing _compared to this. Not even close.

"Cath, are you sure about this?" He asked, gazing at the crowd with absolutely inclination to immerse himself in it.

"Come on, Griss, where's your sense of adventure?" Greg clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. Gil shot him a look over his sunglasses. "Sorry." Greg shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"So, Cath, where to?" Warrick arrived in the lobby and joined Greg, Gil, and Catherine.

"Nick and Sara?"

"Right here."

The six CSIs glanced at each other. Catherine grinned and led the others out into the bustling city.

&----

"I'm not wearing this."

Catherine glanced up from her magazine. She was sitting cross-legged in a squashy armchair situated outside one of the many dressing rooms of Barney's New York. Gil had spent the last ten minutes staring at himself in the mirror of his change room; he couldn't believe that he had allowed himself to be dragged down the streets of New York, then into various sets of clothing he never would have willingly picked out on his own.

"Don't be ridiculous. Let me see you."

Catherine laughed as she heard Gil sigh. The door opened.

She stopped laughing.

He stood before, leaning against the doorframe in a black turtleneck that fit him like a glove, light washed jeans, and black dress shoes. His arms were well defined; his torso slightly toned and a little rounded—not that she minded. He looked more enticing than any man Catherine had seen a long time. And that was saying something.

"I'm not wearing this."

Catherine stood and made her way over to him, running her eyes over his attire.

"You look…really handsome, actually."

He quirked an eyebrow.

"Handsome, huh?"

Catherine flushed. Catherine, he noted, _never _flushed. Especially when flirting.

"Yes, well—" She was cut off by a loud whistle that made both Gil and Catherine snap back to their surroundings.

"Nice, Griss," Warrick said, his hand looped through the loops of his new purchased jeans. Beside him, Nick laughed.

"Damn, Cath, how'd you get him into clothes that fit?"

"Shut up," Grissom snapped, locking himself once more into the dressing room. "And anyway, how am I supposed to were a turtle neck in one hundred and ten degree weather?"

His voice floated over to them as the jeans he had just been wearing slung themselves over the top of the door.

"Oh, I don't! I'm thinking _ahead _Gil—you should try it sometime. And, in any case, the rest of things you tried on are fine for this weather. So, hand 'em over." Catherine pulled the jeans down and folded them. "How'd you guys do?"

Nick shrugged.

"Not too bad. Got the essentials. You?"

"Almost done. If I could just get him into something he likes I'd be happy, but you can't have everything." Catherine pulled four more shirts from the top of the door and folded them, too. "I need to go to Saks, and then I'm done."

"Saks? I'm so in." Sara squeezed herself between Nick and Warrick, donned in capris and a t-shirt. She glanced around at the sceptical looks on her companions' faces. "What? Even _I _need cosmetics, thank you."

Catherine smiled as she folded yet another pair of pants. Gil emerged a moment later in a grey t-shirt and jeans, looking distinctly unhappy.

"Well, at leas they fit him," Warrick said.

"Are you finished torturing me yet?" Gil asked, shoving his hands in his pockets as the strawberry blonde next to him cut the tags off of his shirt and jeans.

"Watch it, or I'll make you wear the linen pants."

Gil glared.

"I will _not _wear linen pants."

"Oh, yes you will."

"Oh, no I won't."

"Gil, if you don't stop fighting me, I'll—"

"You'll what?"

"I'll make you _very _sorry, that's what!"

Gil raised an eyebrow.

"I'm scared."

"You should be."

The group watching the two's silence was broken as Greg bounded up, laden with shopping bags and bearing the slogan 'Drop Beats, Not Bombs' on his t-shirt.

"Remind me why _I _got stuck with all the shopping bags?"

Warrick, Nick, and Sara laughed as they turned and exited the dressing room, Nick looking over his shoulder to say:

"Because you allowed yourself to get stuck, buddy."

&----

The CSIs entered the front lobby of the hotel a little while later; Gil immediately noticed a buzz of activity emanating from the increased crowd gathered in the lobby.

"I take it everyone has arrived," Catherine muttered from beside him.

"Doctor Grissom!"

A burly man with a very shiny bald spot in the middle of his greying hair called to Gil over the crowd. Gil grimaced slightly as the jovial man approached. He had never been fond of the overly buoyant man that was the head of the number one CSI lab in the country, and always detested his far too cheery nature.

"Doctor Grissom, Doctor Grissom," The man shook his head, though giving no indication that he was displeased. "What a pleasant surprise. Didn't expect to see _you _here, of course."

He stuck out his slightly pudgy hand. Gil shook it reluctantly.

"Well, Friedrich, I'm full of surprises."

Friedrich DaSilva grinned cheekily and glanced around at the five curious CSIs; his gaze lingered on Catherine.

"And this must be you're renowned team! A pleasure, a true pleasure. Friedrich DaSilva, from Norfolk. Aren't you going to introduce us, Doctor?"

Gil looked as though he would sooner have become best friends with Conrad Ecklie than introduce his team to the vile DaSilva, but out of a courtesy Catherine had nearly beat into him, he complied.

"Pardon me—Friedrich DaSilva, meet Catherine Willows, Warrick Brown, Sara Sidle, Nick Stokes, and Greg Sanders. Everyone, this is Friedrich DaSilva, head of the lab in Norfolk."

"Number one in the country!" DaSilva laughed, shaking hands with Greg, Warrick, and Nick, and kissing Sara and Catherine's hands.

"Yes, well, if you'll excuse us, Friedrich, we need to be on our way."

"Ah, yes!" DaSilva rocked on the balls of his feet, "freshen up for the festivities—of course, of course. I'll see you all tonight, then!"

And, kissing Sara and Catherine's hands once again, he disappeared into the crowd.

"Hey, Griss—since when are you on first name terms with Friedrich DaSilva?" Warrick asked, staring after the man.

"He's been to every CSI conference I've attended. That's why I never attend. He never passes up an opportunity to remind me who's number one."

Beckoning to them, Gil led the group towards the elevators.

"Hey, Grissom?" Greg asked. "_What _festivities?"

_A/N: Last time I checked, Norfolk was the number one lab in the country, so if I got that wrong, my deepest apologies. Also, I was channelling J.K. Rowling when I came up with Friedrich, so should anyone notice a similarity between he and Horace Slughorn, that's why.  
Huge thank-yous to all of my reviewers, who (my God) left me ten reviews within seven hours on the first chapter alone! _soliz, EveryoneIsEntitledToMyOpinion (_love the name), _karmine, Brittney Landray AKA Muggs (_you made me laugh with the "Now What?"!), _Cadao, MarciaG (_Awesome! I made your month? That just made _my _month!), _Vaquera7 (_Thanks so much for pointing that out—I'll definitely keep an eye on that in the future!), _dukespencer2, _and _Ladybug07. _Whew!_

_Click the purple button!_


	3. Let the Fun Begin

_A/N: For creative purposes, let's just pretend that Teri Miller never showed up again after 'Face Lift', okay?_

Chapter Three: Let the Fun Begin

Sara and Catherine had disappeared. Greg was furiously playing air guitar with his headphones on. Warrick and Nick were battling it out with the video game console on the TV. And Gil was bored.

He had completely forgotten about the party that was to be held down in the bar, being too wrapped up in the crash-shopping trip and purely enjoying being around Catherine. When had he become so enraptured with the beautiful strawberry blonde? Yes, he'd always loved spending time with her, treasured the moments they now less frequently shared—but now, _now_, he would make up for their distancing friendship. As long as he kept his growing feelings for her in check, of course. He wasn't going to ruin the friendship they'd built for twenty years.

He hoped.

"Yo, Grissom! Are you coming or not?" Warrick stood at the base of the staircase, waiting for his boss to notice him.

"What?"

"Coming. You. Downstairs—remember? The party?"

Gil sighed and rubbed his temples.

"Alright, alright. Where are Catherine and Sara?"

"Already down there."

"Ah."

Gil pulled on the suit jacket Catherine had picked out for him. She'd set out what he was supposed to wear—he had felt like such a child when she'd done it, but he had to admit that what she'd picked out wasn't half-bad. Jeans, polo, and a blazer were casual enough for the party, but no too dressed up.

"Ready?" Nick asked as Gil reluctantly descended to the main floor.

"Never," Gil sighed.

&----

"Man, you ever seen so many science geeks in one place?"

Glares met Gil, Warrick, Nick and Greg as they entered the hotel bar. Greg held up his hands.

"What? I'm one of you!"

Gil shook his head as the young CSI spotted an attractive waitress and bounded after her.

"Incorrigible," Warrick laughed.

"Naturally. Where are Cath and Sara?" Gil asked, eyes scanning the crowd for any trace of the two women.

"I dunno," Nick replied. "Hey, Grissom, isn't that—?"

"Doctor Grissom!"

Friedrich DaSilva was making quick work of the crowd, pushing through as he escorted a slightly struggling blonde toward Gil. He froze.

"Doctor, I've been wanting to introduce you to this young lady ever since I learned you'd be attending! May I introduce Teri—"

"We've met," Teri Miller snapped. She glanced up at Gil, who had mercifully unfrozen, but who was still a little stunned. Hadn't he escaped this particular mistake a few years ago?

"What?" DaSilva spluttered, "but—well! There you are! It seems I'm a bit too late—incidentally, I had wanted it to be me to introduce you, my dear, to Doctor Grissom! He is quite extraordinary, of course-uncommonly intelligent—"

"Yes, well, it seems that many of us are overrated in this room tonight, Professor DaSilva." Teri gazed coldly at Gil while addressing DaSilva. Gil narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Indeed."

DaSilva, puzzled, opened his mouth, gazing blankly from one to the other. He was but off from making an uncomfortable situation disastrous by Catherine, who chose to appear at Gil's side at that moment. She laid a hand on his arm.

"Gil?" She turned to glance at the two people in front of Gil. "Ah. Teri, how are you?"

DaSilva still looked puzzled.

"A fair bit better than Doctor Grissom, I'm sure."

A small Cheshire smile crept over Catherine's features. Glancing quickly at Warrick and Nick (who stood, masking their confusion behind the pair) she gave them a look that clearly told them not to interrupt.

"Oh, I don't know," Catherine smiled. She ran her hand down Gil's arm and interlaced her fingers with his. He shot her a look over his glasses. What was she up to?

Squeezing his hand reassuringly, she turned back to the now even more stoic Teri.

"I'm quite sure he's doing well," Catherine smiled. "I've got to admit, I'm surprised to see you here, Teri. The hotel is full, isn't it? Why, Gil and I even have to share a bed!"

Teri's eyes hardened and she locked eyes with Gil once again.

"How unfortunate. If you'll excuse me," she turned and made her way stiffly through the crowd, DaSilva behind her.

"Damn, Cath!" Warrick laughed. Catherine grinned.

"It was childish," she said, "but I've been wanting to do that for such a long time."

"Have you?" Gil quirked an eyebrow. Catherine smirked.

"Why, yes I have. So, shall we get this party started?"

Gil shrugged.

"Or finished, either way."

Catherine shot him a look before pulling him across the floor to the booth Greg and Sara occupied. It was then that Gil had time to appreciate what his best friend was wearing—a black halter-style cocktail dress with matching stilettos, and gold earrings. He loved the way the straps of her shoes laced their way halfway up her calves, accentuating one of her many assets.

"I need a drink," Gil muttered.

"On tequila, comin' right up!"

"Greg!"

&----

The group piled their way into the hotel room, some more gracefully than others. Gil, for his part, remained mostly sober, having only had a screwdriver. But Greg, on the other hand, was bouncing around the room, singing and randomly grabbing the nearest person to perform a quick tango before rallying off again. It had been most disconcerting for Gil to discover the youngest CSI had only had two drinks.

"One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, fa-LOOR!"

"Oh, my God, I'll kill him," Catherine said, watching as Sara was spun across the room and onto the couch. The brunette looked torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to vomit.

"I'm turning in," Gil said.

"I'm with you. Conference at eight." Catherine raised her voice over the four now collapsed on the couch and bed, chatting animatedly. "Night, guys!"

A chorus of 'night' followed Gil and Catherine as they climbed the stairs.

"Right or left?"

"Excuse me?" Gil said, staring at his best friend.

"Side of the bed, Gil," Catherine laughed.

"Oh," Gil smiled as Catherine rifled through some of the shopping bags to produce a pair of pyjamas and a toothbrush.

"Right, Cath. Even you know that."

Catherine raised an eyebrow and headed into the bathroom to change.

When she emerged ten minutes later, it was to Gil already in bed, glasses perched on the end of his nose as he sat engrossed in a book he'd brought with him. He'd thrown on a pair of flannel sleep pants and a t-shirt he'd insisted on buying himself, while she browsed the lingerie section. The combination of Catherine and lingerie was enough to push Gil right over the edge and never question turning back.

Now, though, propped up in bed and reading the book with as much intensity as a four-year-old artist creating a masterpiece with finger paints, Catherine thought he looked absolutely adorable. She smiled as she climbed into the bed next to him, pulling her hair into a loose ponytail.

"Tired?" Gil asked, glancing at her over the rims of his glasses.

"Little bit," Catherine yawned. Gil chuckled and reached over to the side table, placing the book and glasses on it while he switched off the light. The room was bathed in darkness.

"Night, Cath."

Silence, Downstairs, Warrick and Nick had piled into Sara and Greg's room—Catherine could occasionally hear a shout or bursts of laughter coming from the next room. She smiled. They never really got to have fun while on the job. Well, not the kind of fun usually had by men and women their age. It was could to know they could loosen up, enjoy each other's company.

"Hey, Gil?"

"Mm?"

"Are you mad? About before, with Teri?"

Gil turned over to look at her dark form.

"No, why?"

"Well," she said, turning to face him, "it wasn't really my business. I had no right to butt in, and I'm sorry."

"I'm not." Gil could see her face lying on the pillow, her arm tucked underneath. "I need help. I'm glad you showed up when you did. What happened to 'Never doubt, never look back'?"

She smiled.

"Gil, when it comes to you, I question _everything._"

He smiled.

"Goodnight, Catherine."

"Goodnight, Gil."

_A/N: I know, I know, so Teri wasn't _exactly _canon. But I really wanted Cath to get her little dig in there after Teri left Gil in 'To Halve and to Hold' and after her little performance in 'Face Lift'. Hence why Teri was my mini-version of a bad guy.  
Many thanks to my uber insane amount of reviewers (You guys ROCK!). Thanks to: _Ace47, Brittney Landray AKA Muggs (_Your review so made me smile!), _JacobedRose (_for two reviews!), _Lena, kiara-malfoy, karmine, _aaaand _Uhm.What.  
Click the purple button!


	4. What Conference?

Chapter Four: What Conference?

She was warm. And comfortable. Her half asleep brain registered her surroundings. The hotel room. The bed she was snuggled in was deep and surrounding. Or was that the pair of arms around her?

Catherine's eyes fluttered open. Her back was spooned against Gil, his head nestled comfortably in her neck, her fingers interlaced with his around her. She smiled. Sometimes, after a particularly rough fight with Eddie, Catherine would seek protection of herself and the then very young Lindsey in Gil's townhouse. The first time they had found themselves in the position they now found themselves in, they had been slightly surprised, but after it occurred more increasingly often over the next few months, they began to become accustomed to it. It became a sort of comfort.

"Griss! Cath! C'mon! Conference starts in half an hour!"

Greg's voice woke Gil with a start. Looking around, he saw Catherine glance towards the door just as Greg bounded through it, halting as he spotted the two in bed.

"Whoa—sorry guys—" Greg backed out, smirking, and closed the door.

"Oh, dear," Catherine sighed. She and Gil glanced at each other before untangling themselves from one another.

"At least it wasn't as bad as when Lindsey caught us," Gil said, watching her flit around the room in search her shopping bags. Catherine laughed.

"You try explaining _that _to a five-year-old."

"Isn't that what we're about to do?"

Catherine smirked at him before grabbing a towel from the rack and slipping into the bathroom.

"Dibs the shower first!"

"That's not fair!" Gil called to the closed door. It momentarily snapped open to allow Catherine's head to poke around it.

"_Life's _not fair, babe." She winked and closed the door on Gil's chuckle.

"Not when it comes to you, Catherine," Gil sighed, "not when it comes to you."

&----

Greg was grinning madly when Gil and Catherine arrived downstairs. Ignoring him, Catherine swung her purse over her shoulder and poured herself a cup of coffee from the kitchenette.

"Hey, Cath," Greg said, "good sleep?"

"Fantastic. Yours?" Catherine bit back.

"Eh, it was okay. Sara's a blanket hog. How's Grissom?"

The spiky-haired CSI wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Again," Catherine smirked over the rim of her coffee mug, "fantastic."

Greg's grin widened until the skin around his mouth threatened to crack.

"Really?"

"Really, really," Catherine sighed. "Greg, don't you have a DNA Enzyme and Hair Follicle Analysis seminar to get to?"

Greg glanced at his watch. Shocked, he jumped up, pulled his jacket on, snatched the muffin Sara was about to eat straight out of her hands and slammed the door behind a hasty, "Bye!"

"Hey!" Sara yelled. Nick laughed as he gathered up his own jacket and followed Greg, Warrick behind him.

"Ready?" Gil asked Catherine.

"I'm never ready for these conferences. You coming, Sara?"

The brunette glanced up, distracted.

"What? Oh, I'll…catch up with you guys."

"Right," Catherine raised her eyebrows and turned to Gil. "Shall we?"

"We shall."

&----

Three hours later, Catherine was a little less enthusiastic. She fidgeted slightly in her seat while the speaker at the front of the conference room droned on about—blood spatter analysis? She wasn't really paying attention. She knew all of this, anyway. How did they expect her to stay awake when they were lecturing her on a subject she'd written her entire thesis on?

At least she'd seated herself far enough from the front so that no one would notice her doodling idly on her note pad. Three rows up and six seats over, she could see Gil fidget as well. DaSilva had spotted him the moment he and Catherine had stepped into the lobby, immediately preying upon them. Gil had sent Catherine off with get promise that she would save him a seat.

That was three hours ago. DaSilva had dragged Gil over to his row of seats, surrounded by a group of chittering scientists Gil detested. Now, he was, for once, bored out of his mind. He would have much preferred sitting with Catherine, perhaps playing a game of X's and O's.

He suddenly felt his leg start to vibrate. Looking around, he made sure no one was looking before flipping the cell phone and reading the message on the screen.

_Bored yet?_

Gil smirked. It was typical Catherine. She always got distracted during blood spatter lectures.

Quickly clearing the area of wandering eyes, Gil lowered the cell phone beside his leg and the column next to him.

_I thought this was your specialty._

_I know it all._

_That's a little cocky, don't you think?_

_Not cocky, confident._

_Confidence is often mistaken for cockiness._

_Do you have a point?_

_Not really._

_I didn't think so. How much longer?_

_About forty minutes._

_Forty! But we have lunch soon, right?  
Yes, Catherine. Lunch, then an Audio/Visual seminar._

_Oh, my God. Do they think we're stupid?_

_You've met the people around here. Anyway, this is all part of the Continuing Education Program._

_Ugh-yes, I said ugh-what's up for dinner tonight?_

Gil froze. As far as he knew, Warrick and Nick were planning on trying out some of the bars around Times Square. Now was his chance to spend some alone time with Catherine—but would she want to?

_Well, it depends. Bar or restaurant?_

Catherine frowned slightly. She'd been hoping to get him on his own, maybe talk, drink, reconnect with the man she'd grown distant from in the last few months.

_Bar? How unlike you._

_Bar's not my idea. Nicky and Warrick's. They're taking Greg and Sara, as well._

It was only a tiny white lie, after all.

_I think I'll take the restaurant.  
_Gil's heart skipped a beat.

_Any specific company in mind?_

Catherine's heart skipped a beat.

_Well, it seems the rest are bar partying, so it seems I'm stuck with you._

Gil smiled.

_As long as you're not bitter about it, of course._

Catherine smiled.

_I think I'll survive._

_Good. I'll pick you up at seven._

_Oh, ha, ha._

She flipped the phone closed and smiled to herself. Three rows up and six seats over, Gil did the same thing.

&----

"Who's up for some bar-hopping?"

Catherine rolled her eyes. Behind her, Greg was bouncing from one foot to the other, anxious to get going.

"Will you hang on a minute, Greg? I've got to find my shoe—"

"You kicked them under the bed. _Now _can we go?"

Scowling, Sara disappeared into the other room to collect her shoes while Warrick and Nick took up residence next to Greg at the door.

"You guys comin'?" Warrick asked, his hands in his pockets.

"Nah. I think I'm getting a little old for all-night bar-crashing. You guys have fun, though."

Greg raised his eyebrows.

"So, what're you gonna do?"

"None of your business," Catherine said. Upon seeing the expressions on Warrick and Nick's faces, she elaborated. "We're going out to dinner. To a place without fifty drunks grinding to bad music."

"Ah," Warrick said, "But I thought—"

"Any wise cracks about Old Vegas and I'll have your head. All your heads," she smiled, despite herself. "Now get outta here before I get ya."

Lurking in the doorway, Sara was pulled unceremoniously after the three men. She shot Catherine a confused look as the door closed behind her.

"But—" The door slammed to cut off her complaint.

"Score one for the redhead." Catherine kicked her feet onto the couch. "So, Gil," she called, "we leaving any time soon?"

Gil appeared down the stairs, holding two wine glasses and an apron.

"Actually, my dear, I thought we'd eat in."

_A/N: Surprise chapter! Read and review!_

_Click the purple button!_


	5. Missed Chances

Chapter Five: Missed Chances and a Surprising Return

He had a quirky sort of charm, she had to give him that.

Gil had disappeared an hour or two before, promising he wouldn't be too long and he'd be back soon. When he had returned, she had been puzzled when she'd spotted what looked like shopping bags clutched in his hands. Now, as he moved around the makeshift kitchen, she understood—he'd planned the dinner the whole time.

"Impressive." She smiled. He glanced at her over his shoulder.

"I thought we needed a night just to relax before the mayhem starts," he said, chopping up a carrot and adding to the frying pan.

"Starts? Gil, I think it's in full swing."

"Not when you hear what DaSilva and his crew have planned."

Catherine didn't respond at first. She was too busy watching him, memorizing every detail of his back, his hands, his face. She couldn't believe he had been thoughtful enough to make her dinner, just the two of them. No man had ever treated her with such tenderness. Even in the good days with Eddie, before she'd gotten pregnant, he had never done something as simple as making her dinner. But Gil…Gil was different. She was a woman to Gil, not a stripper, not some cheap girl—a woman. She loved how good she felt around the man standing in front of her.

"What?" Catherine snapped out of her reverie to meet his startling blue eyes.

"You okay? You were gone there for a minute." Gil scanned her eyes carefully. She really was beautiful.

"Oh, no, I'm fine," she smiled. "How can I help?"

"You could pour the wine." The corner of his mouth twitched as she grinned her Cheshire smile he loved so much.

"Good—I need a drink."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "Rough day at the office?"

"Ha, ha," she smirked and poured him a glass of wine. "Funny."

"I'm funny." He smirked back and carried two plates over to their makeshift table in between the two couches they'd moved.

"Oh, terribly." Catherine took a plate from Gil with a swift kiss on the cheek. He stared at her.

"What was that for?" H asked, sitting across from her.

"It was a 'thank you'. Its not everyday a handsome gentlemen makes me dinner." She smiled. Her hair fell across her cheek as she did so. "Now, who taught you how to make stir-fry just the way I like it?"

"I believe you did."

Catherine grinned and clinked glasses with her best friend. He smiled.

"To us—may we never run low on—"

"Support." Catherine smiled.

"Friendship."

"Honesty."

"Fights." They laughed. Gil locked his blue eyes with hers. Her expression changed as he gazed seemingly straight through her and into her soul.

"Passion," she breathed. They weren't that far apart. He could hear her breath quicken; it raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

"Love."

She was closer to him now. Much, much closer than she had ever been before.

He was closer to her now. Much, much closer than he had ever been before.

She could feel his breath on her skin.

He could smell the soft scent of her perfume.

His beard tickled her face.

Her hair blew over his cheek.

They were so close…

&----

"So, what's the deal with Cath and Griss? I though Cath liked going out." Greg asked, accepting his beer from Warrick. The older man slid in with the rest in the booth they'd found at the back of the bar.

"Aw, you know Cath. Whatever she's in the mood for." Warrick replied.

"Yeah, and besides, Grissom never goes out," Nick added. "Cath probably stayed to keep him company."

The four CSIs sat at a small bar they'd found just off of Times Square, chatting amongst themselves while the overhead lights spun above them, gliding across the semi-crowded dance floor.

Sara plucked the cherry from Nick's drink and popped it into her mouth.

"Probably."

"Oh, I dunno, guys," Greg said, with the air of one about to let the cat out of the bag and was quite pleased with himself for doing so, "I think there's something more there. I mean, they looked pretty comfortable this morning."

Sara's head snapped up.

"What do you mean, Greggo?" Nick asked.

"Well," Greg began with a flourish, leaning in conspiratorially, "when I went to wake them up this morning, they were, shall we say…close?"

"Close?" Sara snapped dryly, "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that the bed may have been a bit too big for them, if you catch my drift."

"No, I don't," Sara bit back.

"Whoa, down, girl!" Greg raised his hands up. "Don't shoot the messenger. I just meant that they were more wrapped up in each other than usual."

"I think this guy gets the award for the most creative attempts to dodge spitting an answer out," Warrick laughed. Greg grinned.

"You betcha. Just watch, something's going to happen by the end of this trip, and I don't mean conference-wise."

Nick glanced at Sara. Her face was impassive, but the hand clutching her drink was white with tension. Deciding to spare the brunette's feelings, he changed the subject.

"So, anyone seen any good movies lately?"

&----

Judy Tarafin hung up the phone and consulted the list of attendees for tomorrow's conference. She had been calling all over the hotel since five o'clock, trying to finish before her daughter left for a birthday party. She sighed.

_Only fifteen more to go, _Judy thought. She picked up the phone and once again began to dial.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end sounded frustrated and slightly angry.

"Dr. Grissom? I'm Judy Tarafin, the Sheraton's event co-ordinator. I'm calling to inform you that tomorrow's lectures have been cancelled due to illness."

"Okay," Grissom sounded put out. Judy could detect a clinking in the background, as well as a what sounded like a woman's voice.

"Lectures will resume as scheduled on Wednesday."

"Okay, thank you."

"Have a nice evening, Dr. Grissom."

"Yes, yes, you too." Judy heard the click of the dial tone and placed the phone back on the receiver. She crossed his name off of the list.

_Only fourteen more to go._

&----

Catherine sat back on her couch as Gil answered the phone. Inside her head, her two voices of reason were having a fierce battle.

_What the hell was that?  
_He almost kissed you.

_I almost kissed him!  
_Same thing. Either way, it was wrong.

_Wrong? No, it's not!  
_He's your boss!  
_  
Co-supervisor!  
_Again, same thing.

_Oh, my God…what do I do?  
_Panic. Or do what you want.

_Great._

Time was running out. Gil looked like he was eager to end the conversation over the cell quickly. She didn't know what to do.

"Okay, thank you. Yes, yes, you too." Gil snapped the phone shut and rested his forehead against his fist. He had been so close…

Catherine locked her blue eyes with his. The intensity of his gaze took her breath away with the pain, lust, and love in them. She opened her mouth.

"Gil, I—"

"Hola, amigos!"

_Greg, _her mind growled. The spiky-haired man launched himself through the door, followed by a laughing Warrick and Nick, and a reluctantly smiling Sara.

"You're, ah—" Catherine cleared her throat, "You're back early."

"For a reason! Guess who we bumped into at the bar?" Greg asked, gleefully.

"Who, Greg?" Gil sighed.

Greg ignored Gil's obvious impatience.

"Three words," Warrick said, " Miami-Dade-County."

_A/N: I'd just like to clarify that in this story, _The Butterfly Serial _never happened. No, this isn't going to be a huge crossover thing. The Miami crowd are only making cameos because I just love to write them.  
Many thanks to _Brittney Landray AKA Muggs, D.M.A.S., JacobedRose (_Thanks for the in-character comment—in a story like this, that's _very _hard to do)_, MarciaG (_Oh! What songs? Lol), _countrymusicncsigirl, sparvoega, _and _sexyirishBeep (_Sorry, had to tell you that your name is just awesome).  
Oh, and a note: I've taken _In the Wrong Hands _down. The details are in my profile.  
Want to contact me? Go to my LiveJournal, a complete mix of icons, story updates and me randomly ranting—the link is also located in my profile, as my homepage._

_Click the purple button!_


	6. Redheads and Entomologists

Chapter Six: One Handsome Redhead and One Jealous Entomologist

The bar the six entered was lowly lit, with a wide, panelled dance floor and an 'L' shaped bar to the left, while mahogany tables and red-cushioned booths occupied the rest of the room. It was nice enough—though, Gil admitted silently to himself, he didn't really have good judgement in that area. He didn't frequent bars.

Catherine, standing beside him, scanned the room. She hadn't seen the Miami Dade CSIs since the Gordon Daimler case. She'd spoken to their department head once since then, but it had been strictly business, and the call had been a dead end. Now, however, things were different.

"This way." Greg grinned and led the other five to a table where two people sat, a man and a woman, both casually dressed, the woman in dark jeans and a tank-top, the man in beige slacks and a dark green shirt. The woman glanced up as the team approached. The red-haired man did the same.

"Hi there!" Her southern accent was warm and friendly.

"Hey, Calleigh," Warrick said, "You remember Catherine?"

"Of course I do. Nice to see you again, Catherine." Calleigh Duquesne stretched a hand out to the strawberry blonde, which Catherine shook with a smile. She had always liked the polite blonde.

"Nice to see you too, Calleigh. I hope you had a safe trip up here." Catherine smiled again.

"It was fine. Horatio here slept the whole way, didn't you, Horatio?" Calleigh grinned at the somewhat intense man beside her.

"I think that's true." He looked at the woman standing in front of Calleigh. "It's good to see you again, Catherine."

Catherine smiled gently at Horatio Caine and shook his hand. She locked eyes with him for a beat after she had released his hand, a strange vibe flowing between their gazes.

Nick discreetly cleared his throat to bring them both back to the group. Catherine glanced at Gil for a moment.

"Uh, sorry—Horatio Caine, this is Gil Grissom, our ship captain," Catherine smiled tenderly at Gil as the two men shook hands.

"Gil Grissom," Horatio said, "I've heard good things."

"So have I, Lieutenant," Gil replied.

Calleigh glanced from one man to the other, her senses picking up on the slight tension between the two. She looked around at the others.

"Why don't we all sit down?" She suggested. Greg, followed by Warrick, Nick, and Sara, sat themselves around the booth, while Gil and Catherine squished themselves next to them. Horatio and Calleigh pulled up two chairs to the table.

"What's everybody drinking?" A pretty waitress sidled over to the large group and bestowed them with a smile.

The glanced at each other.

"A round of beers, please," Calleigh said. The waitress smiled again and moved away, skirting the ever-growing dance floor. Greg stared after her with his mouth slightly open.

Closing it, he turned to the two Miami CSIs.

"So, guys, tell us," he said, "what's it like working in Miami?"

Horatio and Calleigh exchanged smiled before Horatio answered in his slightly husky voice.

"Well, it's hard to explain Miami, Mr. Sanders."

"Call me Greg. Everyone does." Greg grinned at Calleigh.

"Ah."

"Just be thankful he didn't ask you to call him Greggo," Nick laughed. Greg frowned.

"Hey, _I _didn't make that name up," he said, as the waitress arrived with their beers, "Sara did."

"Did not! Nicky did!"

"_I _did? I thought Warrick did!"

The four Vegas CSIs and two Miami ones turned to look at Gil and Catherine, who had remained silent.

"Well, don't look at us!" Catherine said, raising her hands in mock defence, while Gil sat quietly back in his chair. He smiled slightly as he took a sip from the bottle that had been placed in front of him. Catherine glanced at him for help; he remained amusedly silent.

"Oh, you're a wicked man," she threatened, a note of unmistakable teasing in her voice.

"Smart, maybe. But wicked?" Gil smiled. So did Catherine.

The six others watched the exchange in apparent fascination. When Catherine had been in Miami, she had been all business—a trait Horatio found slightly endearing. Whenever she had been questioned about the man sitting next to her, she had gotten quietly defensive until she was sure whoever was enquiring about the entomologist wasn't speaking ill of him. Now, watching the two banter back and forth, Horatio wondered how deeply the relationship between Gil Grissom and Catherine Willows ran.

&----

An hour or so later found Greg, Warrick, Nick, Sara, and Calleigh crowded around a pool table while Gil and Catherine remained comfortably seated at the booth. Horatio had been called away by the NYPD Crime Unit to visit the dayshift supervisor, Detective Mac Taylor.

"Going somewhere, H?" Calleigh had enquired as Horatio stood to leave.

"Call from Detective Taylor. You'll be alright here?"

Calleigh smiled.

" 'Course I will, handsome. Say hi for me, okay?" She'd squeeze his hand briefly before turning back to the table and sinking three balls into the corner pocket.

"Damn!" Warrick laughed, "Where'd you learn to play pool like that?"

Calleigh just smiled.

Over at the table, Gil and Catherine were sipping silently from their drinks and watching the crowd on the dance floor. Gil had never been one for dancing, but his mother had insisted he learn—a life skill, she had called it.

The beat on the floor changed to a slower pace as Aerosmith drifted over to them. Catherine nearly melted--they were playing one of her favourite songs.

Glancing at the man next to her, she quickly slid out of the booth and stood in front of him.

"Dance with me?"

He looked doubtful for a moment, before locking his eyes with hers and swiftly joining her on the dance floor.

She felt like silk as she slipped her arms around his neck and began to sway gently to the music. His arms wrapped loosely around her waist.

_I could stay awake just to hear you breathing  
Watch you smile while you are sleeping,  
While you're far away and dreaming  
I could spend my life in this sweet surrender,  
I could stay lost in this moment forever  
Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure _

He had the most startling blue eyes, she mused, clear, yet full of the wisdom and knowledge that made him so attractive. They held a slightly haunted look at times, usually when he was working a particularly disturbing case. Those times were the times she could always tell whether or not he was lying—when he responded with an "I'm, fine" if she questioned. He worked so hard to keep the world out and to close himself from it, yet his eyes betrayed him every time. She loved that.

_I don't wanna close my eyes  
I don't wanna fall asleep  
Cause I'd miss you, baby  
And I don't wanna miss a thing  
Cause even when I dream of you  
The sweetest dream will never do  
I'd still miss you, baby  
And I don't wanna miss a thing_

Her eyes were more cerulean, he thought. Hard and glinting when she was determined, blazing when she was angry, soft and cloudy when she cried, sparkling when she laughed. Lately, he'd seen more of the blazing of her eyes than he cared to admit. It scared him. Had he had anything to do with it? Somehow, in the back of his mind, he thought he did. But gazing into her eyes now, he saw no trace of the anger, no sign of her barriers. This was her, warm and smiling, her eyes glittering as they gazed into his.

This was Catherine.

This was _his _Catherine.

_Lying close to you, feeling your heart beating  
And I'm wondering what you're dreaming,  
Wondering if it's me you're seeing.  
Then I kiss your eyes, and thank God we're together  
And I just wanna stay with you  
In this moment forever, forever and ever_

Electricity seemed to be tingling through her body from every point she made contact with him. The look of longing in his eyes made her go weak in the knees. They both wanted it, that much was clear, but Catherine couldn't decide—was it worth it? Was it worth jeopardizing their friendship because she'd misread the signals? They'd known each other for so long that she was sure she knew what he was thinking, what he was feeling. But now, closer to him than she had ever been before, her eyes locked with his, she didn't know.

To hell with it.

_I don't wanna close my eyes  
I don't wanna fall asleep  
'Cause I'd miss you, babe  
And I don't wanna miss a thing  
'Cause even when I dream of you  
The sweetest dream will never do  
I'd still miss you, babe  
And I don't wanna miss a thing_

It was like slow motion. She leaned up, inches from his face, breath on his cheek, as he leaned down to meet her lips with his own. The kiss was light, a caress, but spoke volumes. And when they broke apart, gazing heavily at one another, she knew. This was it.

_I don't wanna miss one smile  
I don't wanna miss one kiss  
Well, I just wanna be with you  
Right here with you, just like this  
I just wanna hold you close  
Feel your heart so close to mine  
And stay here in this moment  
For all the rest of time_

She tasted like heaven, Gil thought, as he examined her eyes carefully, in case he had been mistaken in kissing her. His best friend. Wanting to pinch himself but resisting, he saw her smile the Cheshire smile he loved so much, and bent to capture he lips with his.

_Don't wanna close my eyes  
Don't wanna fall asleep  
'Cause I'd miss you, babe  
And I don't wanna miss a thing  
'Cause even when I dream of you  
The sweetest dream will never do  
'Cause I'd still miss you, babe  
And I don't wanna miss a thing_

&----

Greg Sanders grinned to himself as he turned his eyes from the dance floor and back to the pool table. Leaning over while Sara lined up her shot, he muttered to Nick,

"You owe me five bucks."

The Texan glanced curiously at the lab rat. Greg could almost see the cogs turning in his head as he attempted to make sense of the statement.

_Alcatraz, _the young CSI thought as the look of dawning comprehension spread across the older CSI's face. Eyes wide, Nick glanced towards the dance floor, but the supervisors where nowhere in sight.

Sighing, Nick dug around in his jeans pocket and slapped a five-dollar bill into Greg's waiting hand. Warrick, noticing this, glanced towards the dance floor as well, then did the same.

"Man, how'd you even guess that?" Warrick shook his head.

"Follow the evidence, boys," Greg tapped his nose, "Follow the evidence."

_A/N: I hope this was apology enough for the cliffhanger from the last chapter. I just couldn't help myself! Oh, and "_I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing" _belongs to Aerosmith. There's my little disclaimer so I don't get sued.  
Thank yous are owed to: _Brittney Landray AKA Muggs, hooligan (_I'm sorry I made you hate me for that! Lol. It seems that I may just have to aim for a _War and Peace _type length--I have so much written!), _danibanani (_I hope the kiss was good enough!), _Lena, D.M.A.S. (_"Hm"? Is that good, or bad?), _Jeran (_Awesome, you think the same way about Gil/Sara. Thanks for reading _The Butterfly Serial, _and CHEERS for adding me to your favorites list!), aaaand _dukespencer2. _Whew!  
Click the purple button!_


	7. A Night on the Town

Chapter Seven: A Night On the Town

New York city at dusk glittered like a jewelled necklace caught in the light. As the sun set and the temperature dropped off about two degrees, the city became—if possible—more alive than the daylight hours before, bustling at a slower pace as the theatres filled with the promise booming musical numbers and spinning, twirling dancers in bright costumes. Dusk, Gil decided, was his favourite time of day in the great city.

He strolled with Catherine down the many avenues and streets of New York, stopping briefly under leafy green trees to share a quick—well, he supposed they were quick—kiss before moving on again. The two later would insist they took shelter under the trees to hide from the sun (both conveniently forgetting that the sun had begun its descent hours before). Still, they were free in the city of lights, and so they took full advantage of it.

Next to Gil, Catherine walked along beside him. The dusk light caught the strands of her strawberry blonde locks; she looked angelic to Gil. What was more, this impossible beauty had one of her slender hands wrapped in his.

For the second time that night, Gil found he needed to resist the urge to pinch himself.

Catherine smiled a little when she caught him staring at her out of the corner of her eye. She'd caught him doing that thousands of times before, whether it be while they penned away at the paperwork he always neglected, or while they worked evidence in the layout room—but, every time she glimpsed him doing it, she'd secretly smiled to herself. It felt good to know he was watching her.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Both Catherine and Gil turned to see a well-dressed elderly couple next to them, standing outside a brightly lit theatre awaiting its patrons.

"Yes?" Gil asked, tentatively.

"My name is Elizabeth Howard, and this is my husband, Franklin. We have tickets to tonight's performance, but we've just been told that our daughter has gone into labour. We need to leave. Would you be interested in taking our seats?"

Gil and Catherine glanced at each other. Was this some kind of joke?

"Uh—we—don't usually do this sort of—"

"Oh!" The woman laughed. "You don't have to worry. We've checked with the box office." She indicated the window that held a man, who nodded towards them. "It's perfectly alright! We're offering them free of charge. It would be such a same to let these tickets go to waste."

"That's very generous of you," Catherine started.

"You'll take them, then?" Elizabeth Howard smiled brilliantly at them. "Oh, thank goodness. Here."

She handed the tickets to a thoroughly shocked Catherine, who took them numbly.

"I—thank you," Catherine smiled at the two kindly people in front of them. "This is very nice of you."

"Oh, it's no problem. You two look like you could use a night on the town."

And with that, Franklin and Elizabeth Howard vanished into the crowd, leaving a startled Catherine and Gil in their wake.

&----

It was eight o'clock in the Big Apple. Darkness was beginning to blanket the sparkling city, turning the street lamps on to fluoresce the sidewalks in a soft orange glow. But inside the Majestic Theatre, the lights were dimming as theatregoers made their way into the beautiful building.

Standing just outside the theatre doors, Gil and Catherine waited their turn to enter and take their seats. Gil knew that getting as lucky as they had done was almost unheard of, and he appreciated it—it wasn't everyday a pair of prime tickets made their way to you, after all. And even though the timing had been tight, giving the couple only forty-five minutes to return back to their hotel and change before heading out again, it was worth it entirely.

"Excited?" He asked the woman beside them. She looked up and smiled at him.

"Of course," Catherine's eyes sparkled. "It's not like attending a Broadway show on the arm of a handsome gentlemen is a usual occurrence for me, you know."

And he certainly looked handsome. She'd dressed him in a black suit they had purchased on their first shopping trip, but had skipped making him wear a tie. It wasn't a terribly formal show, and she loved when he wore the top few buttons of his shirt undone. She thought it made him look professionally dishevelled, in a clean-cut sort of way.

Catherine had chosen to slip herself into the black halter dress from the other night, hooking long, teardrop earrings into her ears and a matching necklace that slipped gracefully to her chest. She'd left her hair down in soft curls and had chosen a pair of safe-height stilettos (she was surprised shoes such those existed) to decorate her feet.

"Your tickets please, sir."

&----

Catherine and Gil slid thankfully into their seats after the long line up. The lights had begun to him when one of the ushers had pointed out their seats—centre section, in the two best seats.

"Boy, did we luck out," Catherine said, adjusting her dress.

Gil looked and smiled at the woman smiling back at him.

"Yeah," he laced his fingers with hers, "we did."

She squeezed his hand.

The theatre went dark; silence fell. Candles burned brightly on the stage as the men and women upon it whipped a cloth off of the object that was the focus of the scene. A giant chandelier flew over their heads as pounding organ music filled the air, spinning a most haunting tune…

&----

"Where _have _you been?"

Greg stared accusingly at the couple that had just stumbled through the hotel door, laughing and talking, and holding onto each other for dear life.

"Huh?" They faced four curious gazes as they attempted to straighten themselves out.

"It's one-thirty in the morning."

Gil and Catherine glanced at each other and once again began to laugh.

"Is it? Sorry, guys," Catherine chuckled, entering the room and tossing her purse and wrap onto the chair.

"Have a good time?" Warrick asked, grinning.

"We did." Catherine glanced at Gil, who was smiling.

"Not that I want to know, or anything, but what did you guys end up getting up to?" Greg asked.

"What? Oh." Catherine spoke over her shoulder, striding up to Gil and plucking her programme from his suit jacket pocket. "Thank you!" She tapped him on the nose with it.

"Well, Greggo, we went to see a show."

"In this town? How'd you do that without booking it months in advance?" Warrick asked.

"Someone gave them to us," Greg replied.

"Someone _gave _them to you?" Nick looked, shocked.

"Is that legal?" Greg asked. Catherine shot him a look.

"Of _course _it's legal. This elderly couple's daughter was having a baby and they had to get rid of the tickets."

Warrick whistled.

"Nice. What'd you see?"

Gil tossed his playbill across the table to Warrick.

"_The Phantom of the Opera,_" he read aloud, "I saw that once, when it came to Vegas a couple years back. It was good."

"Well, this was fantastic," Catherine yawned. "But I'm exhausted. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

They watched as she gathered her wrap, programme, and purse from the chair, kiss Gil swiftly on the cheek, and then climb the stairs. Her hair bounced slightly as she went.

Sara continued to stare after the strawberry blonde long after she had disappeared from view. Warrick, Nick and Greg, however, all turned to stare at Gil. Greg was grinning.

"What?" Gil snapped. They continued to stare.

"Have fun tonight, Griss?" Greg grinned maniacally.

"None of your business." Gil replied. Smiling, Warrick and Nick shook their heads before turning back to their video game.

"Aw c'mon, boss," Greg pleaded. "Gimme _something._"

Without a word, Gil pulled his wallet from his pocket, withdrew five dollars from the folds, and slid it across the table to the young CSI.

"My contribution to the betting pool," he said, turning to head up the stairs after Catherine, "next time, you may want to up the wager a bit."

_A/N: Eek! It's so short! Sorry for the length, but this just felt like a completely natural place to end it. HUGE, we're talking HUGE thanks to: _Uhm.What, hooligan (_that's a fantastic suggestion--I'll look into changing it when I go back and re-edit this in a few days! I love being told I'm awesomeness embodied /blush/), _BRiTTNEY LANDRY OO (_did you change your name? So glad I made you smile!), _danibanani (_Is this 'more' enough:D), _i die without you (_don't we all love smart Greg?), _karmine, loviegurlie, D.M.A.S. (_fabulous? Awesome! BTW: I so love your fics--they were some of the first GC ones I ever read), _catherine0911 (_Must...resist...M/S temptation...okay, no, I don't plan on Mac and Stella making an appearance in _this _particular story, but I'm working on a New York idea that will be pure MacStella goodness. Thanks so much for the awesome compliments!)  
Want to contact me? Visit my LiveJournal! The link is in my profile.  
Click the purple button!_


End file.
